


Stranded

by SoongTypeDisaster



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angry Sex, F/M, Hate Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25884163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoongTypeDisaster/pseuds/SoongTypeDisaster
Summary: Your shuttle goes down on a remote planet that you thought was uninhabited. When it turns out you were wrong, you have an experience that makes you question whether you want to bother returning to Starfleet.
Relationships: Lore (Star Trek)/Original Female Character(s), Lore (Star Trek)/Reader, Lore/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 73





	Stranded

**Author's Note:**

> So it turns out I thrive on praise and my "only once" explicit fic turned into a second one with an entirely different tone. Whoops.

Shuttle malfunctions weren't your idea of fun at the best of times. Much less so when you were alone. And even less when it led you to make an emergency landing on an unfamiliar planet. The sensors - which you hoped were accurate - had indicated a Class M planet, so the atmosphere was safe. But there were no sentient life signs. Which also meant you were on your own trying to call for help. All you could do was set the distress beacon and wait. Eventually those on the ship would notice your late return and come looking. Hopefully they would come near enough to this sector to pick up the beacon. Damn fool idea, trying to do a little exploring on your way back. But you'd gotten out of the conference early. It had been a boring conference anyway - so far a lot of your career in Starfleet had been that way. A bit less glamorous than you'd been expecting. All you wanted was a little excitement.

That'd teach you.

With a deep breath you grabbed some supplies and opened the shuttle door. Air flooded in. Breathable. Good, so the sensors hadn't lied. That eased a little of your anxiety. Now all you had to do was scout around a little, make sure you could find ready sources of food and water in case you were stuck there for a while. In case you ran out of provisions and power.

You set out in one direction first, checking your tricorder every so often to note your location in relation to the beacon, the shuttle - your lifeline. The terrain was full of tumbled rocks and thick vegetation, the noises reminding you a bit of the jungles of Earth but far more alien, and much less dense. Light filtered easily through the trees, and the soil was almost sandy where it wasn't covered with low, tangled grass.

Barely half an hour had passed when you came across a dwelling. Mismatched but by no means crude. Curiously, it appeared to be cobbled together from... old starship parts? And not inexpertly done either. You found it unlikely that whoever had made it was stranded like you - you'd seen no signs that any other ship had gone down. Which meant all the supplies to make it had either been traded, or stolen. Creeping around to a window, you tried to peer in. The sensors had showed no life signs but this place looked pristine, like someone had been keeping it tidy. And you would rather know what sort of person was living here before you asked them for help. It reminded you again of how alone and unguarded you were, and you glanced at your tricorder to check the location of the shuttle again, just to calm your own anxiety.

But the beacon was off.

"What the--"

You heard the snap of a twig and your hand instinctively went to your phaser.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The voice from behind you sounded vaguely familiar, but you couldn't place it. There was a sardonic edge, but it was definitely a threat. You froze, your hand hovering for a moment before whoever it was, moving too swiftly for you to see, whisked your phaser out of your belt and grabbed you roughly by the arms, steering and shoving you forward toward the entrance of the hashed-together house. Whoever it was, his grip was like iron.

"Listen-- ow, you're hurting me! Listen I didn't come here to--"

"Shut up, human." Strong hands spun you around to face your captor, and your eyes widened at a face that was entirely familiar, though strange for being laced with anger. Pale, with a faint sheen of gold, and bright yellow eyes.

"Data!?"

Clearly that was the wrong thing to say. The android's fury only heightened. "Do I _look_ like Data to you?"

"I mean, a little..." Oh god. Why did you say that? Why did you say that when you knew he was already angry?

At this you were thrown bodily against a wall, thankfully managing to brace just right to avoid the worst damage, though you knew you'd bruise for it. You crumpled to the floor and, as you recovered, heard the soft hum of a forcefield snapping into being.

A cell.

You were trapped. And from what you could gather, he'd turned the distress beacon off. Nobody was coming to help.

"Teach you to come snooping around," the android said with a sneer, then vanished from sight.

He was gone for some time, and you were grateful he'd left you the pack with your provisions. Basic rations weren't much for flavor, but you weren't exactly expecting any hospitality from the android who apparently was not Data. You tried to rack your brain. You weren't privy to a lot of the upper level reports. Had you been told about another android? Had Data ever mentioned it? You had worked together on projects once or twice, but you supposed maybe he didn't talk about family to just anyone. You were acquainted, but you weren't exactly close.

It was dark before the android returned, and he didn't say a word to you when he did, simply turning on a low light over what appeared to be a worktable of some kind, in the middle of the room that faced your cell. You tried to keep your mouth shut, not wanting to antagonize him again, but eventually boredom and curiosity got the better of you anyway.

"So you're not... you know..." Better to avoid saying the name again. "Who are you?"

The android looked up briefly, then bent back over his work with a derisive snort. "Like you care."

"I do, actually." Silence. "...it would at least be nice to have something to call you. If I have a name, a nickname... _anything_... I'm less likely to call you. You know. That other thing again."

There was a pause in the sound of him working, just a fraction of a second, before he continued again. "Lore." He said nothing else after that, and you tried to contain your curiosity for now. You hadn't seen a way out, and pissing him off was definitely not going to get you out of here.

But the silence got to you after a while, and you tried again. "So... do you live here alone?"

The sound of hands slamming down on a metal table caused you to jump a little, and Lore spun around to face you, teeth bared, the dim work light throwing his face into sharp relief. "Have you ever heard of _shutting up_ while someone is trying to work?"

You opened your mouth, but didn't have an answer for that, so opted not to reply. He seemed satisfied enough with that and turned back around. Another minute or two passed, tension boiling in you with nothing to do or even look at besides him, and before you could stop yourself, you heard your own voice again. "So what are you working on?"

He stood this time and you heard something clatter off the table and away into the dark. Wordlessly, he advanced on you, dropping the force field to the cell and lifting you to your feet by your shoulders, pushing you back into the wall with something akin to a snarl. "Listen here you stupid, _useless_ organic..." He trailed off, seeming to realize how he'd positioned himself. His hand was on your throat, his body pressed up against you, holding you to the wall. For a moment he froze there, contemplating, clearly in no hurry as his grip was too strong for you to break free. And good god if you were looking for excitement, this was the most exciting thing that had happened to you since the beginning of your Starfleet career. You'd joined up to travel space, seek out new life, make new friends... maybe a few more-than-friends. But you'd been doing busy work for the better part of a year, and you had not gotten to fuck a single alien.

A few things happened all at once. Lore's grip on your throat loosened, his hips locking yours to the wall well enough on their own. The tension left your body at the same time as that same hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you in toward him. Fuck it this guy was hostile as anything but he was _hot_. You threw your arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss he planted roughly on your lips, trying to move your hips against his own but they wouldn't move. He shifted ever so slightly, fixing you into a better position, and providing just enough friction to elicit the tiniest squeak from you. He responded well to your sudden enthusiasm, letting you away from the wall to wrap his other hand around your back, clasping you to him. He had yet to release the kiss and his tongue was forceful, invasive, turning that single squeak into a muffled moan.

When he finally released your neck you came up flushed and panting, the smirk on Lore's face both smug and curious as his fingers twined absently into your hair. "Well well. Seems you organics are good for something after all."

Things progressed from there. One minute the android was grinding you against the wall, the next he had bent you over the table, ripped your clothing aside, and pressed you down, one hand pushing against the side of your face, the other locking your hands behind your back with that same iron grip from before. Not that you planned on resisting, unless that would make it more fun. When he began to fuck you it was rough and unrhythmic, not what you would have expected from a living machine. Your continued moaning seemed to satisfy the thought that you weren't going anywhere, and he released his grip from your head and hands to place the flat of one palm against your shoulders, bracing. The other hand lifted high and swept down in a resounding slap, followed by digging his fingers into the flesh of your ass, not hard enough to wound but enough to turn your moans into a wail.

After a moment or two of continuing to pound you into the table, he hauled you up with both hands, superhuman strength permitting him to lift you entirely and keep thrusting, holding you in position. Desperately you reached your arms backward to scrabble for purchase and keep your balance, leaning back into him, your hands finding the sides of his neck and gripping tightly. You felt his teeth, then, grazing against the side of your neck before his mouth slid to your ear, growling into it as he bounced you up and down. "I want to hear you _scream_."

This was punctuated by a particularly hard thrust, and you could do little else but oblige. This, it seemed, sent Lore over the edge, and you with him, and after a moment locked in stillness he seemed to calm, lowering himself, and you with him, into a nearby chair. Tired and limp, you fell back onto his chest, and he offered a few soothing strokes to your shoulders. "Well now, that shut you up."

"Mmmmm," was all you could manage, and the smug look returned to Lore's face.

"I take it you enjoyed it too, then. Well whaddaya know. Old Often-Wrong did one thing right." You didn't have it in you to ask what he meant by that. Only nodded in agreement to the first of those statements. The laugh that followed was warmer than you expected based on his earlier behavior, and he shifted you on his lap. "We could leave the beacon off, you know. It's not often I get visitors out this way. Nobody would bother us. Besides, you could have more fun staying with me than those Starfleet saps."

You could do little else but look at him sleepily, and he lifted you up again, now cradled in his arms. There was no bed, but he placed you on a couch against one wall - foregoing the cell, it seemed. There weren't any blankets either, and instead he inexpertly covered you with a few stray articles of clothing. It would have to do. "Just... think about it." Then, seeming to realize he'd been vulnerable for a moment, the sarcasm slipped back into his voice as he turned to go back to his work. "If you're dead set on going back to _them_ at least let me get the hell off this rock before you turn your beacon back on. I don't want them anywhere near me."

He returned to the table, re-settled it with the items that had been on it before he'd flung them away, and went back to ignoring you.

**Author's Note:**

> So, um... apparently this is turning into a habit. This was suggested by a reader of the previous fic (apparently there is a decided lack of Lore/Reader available). Took me a bit of time to get rolling and figure out a way to keep it in character for Lore without getting into... uncomfortable territory for me but I think I managed? Tried to keep the reader character more curious than afraid.


End file.
